


never seen sunlight like that

by thetasteoflies



Series: kay's zutara one-shots: smut [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, F/M, Porn With Plot, Residency, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Surgery, medical AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetasteoflies/pseuds/thetasteoflies
Summary: Katara was a good doctor. And she was well on her way to becoming a damn good surgeon.But she still had a lot to learn.And there was always someone willing to remind her of that fact.UPDATE FEB 2021: I am so touched by the response to this fic. I have more ideas for this AU. I WILL BE continuing it. I am going to turn it into a multi-chap. I need to finish my BB fic first tho. But, after that, this will be my next project. I am SO EXCITED to get back into this universe. Thank you so much everyone for your excitement and encouragement! You absolutely made this happen with your sweet comments!
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: kay's zutara one-shots: smut [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112996
Comments: 37
Kudos: 235
Collections: Zutara Quote Challenge 2020





	never seen sunlight like that

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck is a one-shot?  
> -kay, 2020

* * *

* * *

_“There she is, William. The embodiment of love. Your Venus.”_

_“And how I hate her.”_

_-A Knight’s Tale_

* * *

* * *

Katara hadn’t seen the sun in a month.

She rose before it and went to bed after it. Every day. For the past month. Up at 4am. In bed by 9pm. That was her only consistency. What happened in between was never the same.

Dr. Katara was two years into her five-year long general surgery residency. Fueled by an unhealthy amount of caffeine and an equally unhealthy dependency on protein bars, she had clawed her way through undergrad, medical school, and the first two years of residency so far, cramming anatomy and diseases into her head like her life depended on it. Well, not her life. But the lives of her patients. Because they did. They do.

When a patient came into the emergency department at 2am, awoken by a sudden excruciating pain in their belly, Katara was the one asking them questions, examining their belly, and walking alongside them, holding their hand as they were wheeled into the operating room for an emergency cholecystectomy. She was the one with the knife in her hand, methodically dissecting through layers of tissue to free the infected gallbladder. She was the one who would stitch them up afterward. And she was the one who would come and check on them a few hours later with questions like, “How’s your pain now?” and “Can I get you anything?”

She was a good doctor. And she was well on her way to becoming a damn good surgeon. But she still had a lot to learn.

And there was always someone willing to remind her of that fact.

Dr. Z was four years into his five-year general surgery residency. He was the senior resident. And that made him the boss. Her boss. He decided which surgeries she got to do. He made her call schedule. He basically ran her whole life.

He had insanely high expectations. Rounds at 6am every morning on the dot. Notes done by 8am. Orders, labs, imaging done by 9am. Know every patient on the list. Read up for every surgery. No excuses. No exceptions.

“Sloppy stitching. Do it again.” He would tsk over her shoulder in the OR.

Or

“Don’t bury your blade. Don’t cut where you can’t see. You want to accidentally nick a vessel?”

Or

“Maybe you should start your patient on antibiotics if you don’t want them to… you know… die.” He’d call her out during rounds.

She’d grind her teeth and murmur a quiet, “Yes, Doctor Z. I’ll do that.” As much as medicine was becoming more progressive and inclusive especially to women and minorities, there were some traditions that it clung to. And hierarchy was one of those traditions. Attendings bullied the chief residents who bullied senior residents who bullied junior residents who bullied interns who bullied medical students. The circle of life.

Yet through all the struggle and strife, Katara had never once doubted that this was exactly wanted to do with her life. The endless late nights and early mornings never made her wish that she hadn’t gone into medicine. Even not seeing the sun for a month wasn’t enough to deter her. She was resolute in her choices and impossibly passionate about her field.

But perhaps, she thought, she might have made a mistake in choosing to do a two-month block with Dr. Z as her senior resident.

At least she had a friend to suffer his constant criticism with. Suki was another second-year resident on the service. She was probably one of the few things keeping Katara sane. Well, Suki and coffee. And those chocolate chip cookies from the cafeteria. But mostly Suki.

“Why is he constantly riding me?” she asked Suki as they shared an afternoon coffee. “He doesn’t rip into you nearly as much.”

“Yeah he does seem to have it out for you.”

“I don’t get it. Am I that bad of a doctor?”

“No definitely not. The dude’s just prickly.”

“Probably because he never leaves the hospital. I think he literally lives here,” Katara swirled her coffee idly.

“That is why they call us residents.”

“I know, but yeesh. I get here at 5am and he’s here. I leave here at 7pm and he’s still here.”

“Sounds like he needs a break,” Suki said and wiggled an eyebrow. “Maybe a little stress relief.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What’s so ridiculous?” She smiled. “He’s kinda hot.”

Katara rolled her eyes. It wasn’t untrue. But like hell she was going to admit it. Because that would mean that she paid him any attention. Which she definitely didn’t. She definitely didn’t notice the way he held his patients’ hands while they fell asleep before surgery. She definitely didn’t notice how he always helped the nurses move the patient from the table to their bed. She definitely didn’t admire his dexterity as a surgeon or his intelligence as a doctor.

So yeah. And maybe he was kind of hot. Kind of. Maybe he had that whole aloof-I-don’t-care-what-anyone-thinks-of-me-and-that-only-makes-me-hotter thing going on. Maybe the doctor in her liked the way he corrected her. Because he was right. And he was making her better. And maybe the woman in her liked imagining what else he could do with those dexterous hands.

“I don’t know how you find anyone attractive in scrubs,” she shrugged.

Suki laughed into her coffee. “I don’t hear you denying it.”

~**~**~**~**~**~

Katara woke up at 4am, showered, chugged a coffee, and drove to the hospital. She dropped her bag in the call-room, mentally preparing herself for her 24-hour call shift.

She waited by the nurse’s station, ready and on-time for 6am rounds.

“Good morning, Dr. Z,” she chirped when he approached.

“Morning,” he said back flatly, not lifting his eyes from his clipboard.

_Someone needs coffee_ , she thought as she watched him scowl at the OR schedule for the day. She knew she had a full schedule of lap chole’s and lap appy’s. It would be a good, simple day. Laparoscopic cholecystectomies and appendectomies were the bread-and-butter of the surgery world. A nice schedule to have ahead of a night on call.

“I’m switching your cases today,” he said suddenly. “You’re going to be on the open hemicolectomy with me and Dr. Pakku.”

“Wha—” she started to protest. An open hemicolectomy? That was something usually reserved for third or fourth or fifth year residents. And Dr. Pakku? Katara hadn’t worked with him yet but she knew that he did the most complicated surgeries.

“Do you want to take out a gallbladder for the five hundredth time or do you want to actually get better as a surgeon?”

“But I didn’t read up on this case! I’m not ready!”

“Then get ready. Be in the OR in an hour.” He didn’t give her an opportunity to respond.

The case was complicated. Incredibly complicated. The patient had metastatic cancer that had caused a stricture in his colon and the three surgeons had to be careful not to disturb any cancerous tissue for fear of spreading the cancer even more. It called for intense focus and precision. Ten hours of focus and precision to be exact.

It was the coolest case Katara had ever been a part of.

_I can’t believe I just did that,_ she thought as she sewed the final stitch and tied it into a knot.

“Well done, doctors,” Dr. Pakku said, taking off his gown and gloves. “Good choice of junior resident, Zuko.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ve got it from here.”

“Operative report, post-op orders, transfer the patient back to the floor. All that good stuff. Get it done,” Dr. Pakku said as he left.

Zuko nodded and turned to Katara. “Write the operative report.”

“Me? Shouldn’t you be the one—” She shut up when he narrowed his eyes at her. “Sorry. I’ll do that.” He waved her off dismissively.

She tapped away at a computer in the resident’s lounge that evening, seething and reeling at the same time. Reeling at what she had just gotten the opportunity to do. Reeling that he had let her. Seething at the way he brushed her off. At how unconcerned he was with her concerns. That she might have made an absolute fool out of herself during that case and that he would have been entirely at fault for that.

Suki found her then, tapping at the keys with more force than necessary.

“Heard you had a case with your surgery Adonis. Congrats.”

“I hate him.”

“Why? What did he do this time?”

“He put me on that case at the last possible second. I wasn’t even ready. It could have gone so badly! And in front of Dr. Pakku!”

“But, it didn’t go badly. It went fine.”

“But it could have!”

“Kat, you got to do a high-level case with one of our best surgeons. How are you mad right now?”

“Because he shouldn’t have done that! He’s abusing his power to try and make me look bad.”

“Seriously?” Suki’s look was incredulous.

“What?”

“You’re being dumb,” she said, crossing her arms.

“You think I should be grateful for getting thrown into a case I wasn’t ready for?”

“That’s exactly what I think you should do.”

“Oh okay. Let me waltz up to him and get on my knees and say ‘Oh great and powerful Zuko, thank you for throwing me into the deep end.’” She mocked a thank you with her hands and said with no small amount of spite, “He would have laughed if I sunk.”

“You’re an absolute idiot, Katara. But you’re right about one thing.”

“What?”

“You should definitely get on your knees.”

She smacked her. Suki spun away, laughing. “Night Katara! Have a good call shift!”

~**~**~**~**~**~

Katara finished writing the report a few hours later. She swung by the cafeteria and bought herself a chocolate chip cookie to sweeten her mood. It was well after 8pm when she made for the call room, determined to get at least an hour of sleep before the night onslaught of pages began.

As she walked down the dimly lit call-room hallway, she saw a familiar figure walking away from her. She glanced down at her watch. 8:34pm. That was a new record.

“Zuko?”

“Hm?” he glanced over his shoulder.

She quickened her pace to catch up with him. “What are you still doing here?”

“Just following up on a few things. I’m done now though,” he said, eyeing her and the paper bag with her cookie in her hand. “You on call tonight?”

“You make my schedule. You know I am.”

“So I do.”

They stood regarding each other. The silence stretched.

“Good job today,” he broke the silence.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I mean it, though,” she told him, fighting through the awkwardness. “Thank you.”

“I mean it too. You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I didn’t,” he said with far more authority than he had any right to. “I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. Or even because I wanted to.”

_I know you didn’t want to._

“I did it because you deserved it.”

_Huh?_

“You’re a good surgeon. You need to keep getting better. You’re gonna keep getting better.”

_Oh._

_Shit._

Katara didn’t think he’d ever heard him talk that much at once. But she liked it. She watched the way his mouth moved as he talked and thought it was very much like the way his hands moved during surgery. Measured, confident, exact.

He must have noticed her noticing him because he gave her a strange look. A little quirk of his brow that quickly turned into a smirk as his lips twisted into a smile.

She suddenly remembered why she hated him. This. Exactly this. This stupid confidence that annoyed her to no end.

The exact same confidence, she realized all at once, that she had. It was the same self-assuredness just two years further along. Just bolstered by that much more experience.

And that feeling wasn’t hatred. But something that burned just as hot.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” he said, cutting off her train of thought. He turned to leave.

“Wait.” She caught his wrist and immediately burned at the contact. When he turned around to face her, his smirk was back but this time it was a wicked thing. Self-satisfied and teasing. It had all of the vice that he tormented her with in the OR but none of the sting.

“Yes?” he asked with a false sweetness that made her want to punch him.

And she nearly did. But her arms stopped listening to her about halfway through her command and instead of hitting him, found their way to clutch at his biceps. And with absolutely no consent from her frontal cortex, she drew him to her.

He looked down at her and flashed her a smile.

“Ah ah ah. Sloppy form, doctor,” he said, looking at the way she clenched the bunched-up fabric of his scrubs in her fists. “Do it again.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Not in the hall.” He ducked his head and Katara had exactly two-tenths of a second to process what he had said, his sudden proximity, and what he planned to do next. His breath was hot against her lips and he made no effort to disguise the way he tilted ever-closer, eyes burning but waiting for her to catch up.

Katara had never really gotten a good look at his eyes before. She had no reason to. They were always hidden behind goggles or glued to a clipboard or glaring at her for some tiny infraction. But now she could see the way they reflected a dozen different colors of honey and amber and gold. Now she could see the intensity of their burning. Like sunlight. Warm, steady, and somehow very, very necessary.

She let him crowd her. His gaze flicked down to her lips and he breathed a laugh when he found her biting her bottom lip. He reached a hand up to soothe her chewed lip and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. The feeling of his fingers disappeared for a second and was quickly replaced by something warmer, softer, wetter.

She inhaled sharply and she could feel his lips curl into a smile against hers. But he didn’t let up. He kissed her hard and pushed her backward until her back hit the call room door. She fumbled with the doorknob behind her. She nearly fell backward when the door swung open, but he caught her with a quick arm around her waist.

Katara reveled in the additional contact and leaned into him when he splayed his hand across the small of her back and pressed her body against his. Zuko let his hands wander downward and pause when they reached the curve of her ass. Scrubs may not be much to look at, but the thin fabric is absolutely perfect for appreciating what lay beneath. And appreciate he did. He palmed her ass and used the little “oh” that she murmured into his mouth to run his tongue along her lip, asking her permission before sneaking into her mouth.

The heat that had been building in Katara’s belly sparked and sent cinders of desire in every direction when she felt his tongue graze hers. Her knees buckled and he caught her once again, this time decisively hauling her up so she had to wrap both legs around his hips.

He kicked the door closed before throwing her on the bed. The room plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the twinkling city lights outside the window. She reached blindly into the darkness, her eyes not yet adjusted. Perhaps she should have been embarrassed. Perhaps she would have been embarrassed if she were not drowning in lust. But she felt absolutely no embarrassment when she reached into the darkness and her hand found the hard length of him. She let an appreciative moan at the same time he did as she wrapped her fingers around him and gave an experimental tug.

“Want to?” she asked, looking up through her lashes at him.

She could just make out the hunger in his eyes that gleaned when he said, “Fuck yes. Do you?”

She pulled the drawstring holding his scrub pants up and tugged both pants and boxers down in one smooth movement. She rearranged herself to lie on her stomach and used her tongue to lick a long line on the underside of his cock from base to tip.

“Yes,” she said.

He groaned and tangled his hands in her hair as she took him in her mouth. She bobbed her head, hollowing her cheeks. She hummed to acknowledge the slew of curses that tumbled out of his mouth when she lapped at the head.

His hand tightened into a fist in her hair and she understood his warning. And as much as she would enjoy torturing him like this, forcing him to come apart at her mercy, there was something else she wanted more.

She pulled off with a satisfying _pop!_ and moved to undo her own drawstring and pull off her top. He pulled off his own shirt and joined her on the bed, trailing his fingers over her now-exposed thighs. His touch grew lighter as it moved up her legs until it was feather-light at the apex of her thighs, teasing her. She whined and bucked at the injustice.

He appeased her quickly, capturing her lips with his own and pushing a finger into her. She mewled as he pumped in and out.

“So wet,” he commented against her lips.

“You’re one to talk,” she said, grabbing him again.

He laughed at her. “Impatient?”

“Fuck you,” she growled. How many times she had wanted to say that to him. And how good it felt to finally say it to him.

She swung a leg over him and pushed herself up until she was hovering above him. How good it felt to finally say that to him. She dipped her hips and ground herself against him, coating his cock in her wetness. And how good it felt to see him like this now, wide-eyed and gasping beneath her. He inhaled sharply and his hips stuttered in what Katara could surmise was an aborted thrust. He was waiting for her, giving up control.

Or trying to at least.

Something like fondness swelled in her heart.

Okay so she didn’t hate him. Maybe she kind of liked him.

Maybe.

But she definitely wanted him. Now. Like right now.

He tipped his head back and moaned a quiet mantra of “fuck, fuck, fuck” as she slowly sunk onto him. She joined him in that sentiment when she bottomed out and he began to move within her.

She moved up and down, rising and falling in time with his thrusts, drunk on the strain painting his features. He panted desperately and dug his fingers into her hips. She slowed her pace for a moment and watched in the dim light as he mouthed the word “please” over and over.

“Please what?” she asked, leaning down to kiss him.

“Please—ah,” he stuttered as she clenched around him. “Please don’t stop.”

She couldn’t have. Even if she wanted to. Even for how delicious it might have been to torture him. She couldn’t have.

She didn’t.

They moved together and she guided his hand from her hip and let it slip between her legs, grinding into him, onto him. Needing him everywhere, loving that he was everywhere. Filling her, pleasuring her, kissing every inch that he could.

He drew circles around her clit in time with her downstrokes, matching heavier pressure with the moment he was deepest within her. She quickly unraveled at the combined sensation, crying out as pleasure crashed over her. He followed her over the edge soon after, coming with a grunt that might have had three syllables.

She collapsed on top of him, wincing as he shifted to pull out of her. She pushed his hair out of his eyes and he sighed contentedly. Zuko wrapped his arms around her and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

Reality came back with a vengeance as Katara’s pager shrieked and pierced their peaceful afterglow.

“Ugh, perfect,” she said, rolling off him and fumbling in the dark for her discarded clothes.

“Actually,” he said, sitting up and pulling on his shirt. “It was.”

Katara was grateful for the cover of darkness that hid the red flush of her cheeks. She distracted herself by checking her pager. Emergency Department. A new patient to see.

Zuko finished dressing behind her.

“Gotta go?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Rounds at 6,” he said, opening the door for her.

“I know.”

“Night, Katara.”

“Good night, Zuko.”

~**~**~**~**~**~

Katara hadn’t seen the sun in a month. But suddenly she didn’t mind as much. 

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Residents do not usually fuck in call rooms, I promise. But this is fiction. Completely self-indulgent fiction. And I am not sorry. Not at all.
> 
> hang out with me on [tumblr](https://fiyazu-lorko.tumblr.com/) ❤️
> 
> ❤️🧡💛  
> -kay


End file.
